


William No More

by AdmiralManolo



Category: Let's write sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Mental Instability, Physical Abuse, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdmiralManolo/pseuds/AdmiralManolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SEASON THREE SPOILERS (sort of). This scene is a flashback during "His Last Vow."  Mycroft alludes to a third Holmes brother and this scene takes place immediately after in Mycroft's memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	William No More

“Mykie! Make sure William gets his bath and is ready for bed.”

Mycroft sighed as he heard his mother’s voice and closed his book. Always Him. Always. With Mummy Holmes constantly distracted writing her latest book and father just…distracted, caring for the youngest Holmes brother fell to the middle Holmes. He glanced over at his five year old brother. William was deeply engrossed in his newest book, a collection of beautifully illustrated pirate stories Mycroft had brought home from London. “I guess its bath time, little brother.”

The young boy looked up at Mycroft, his dark curls tumbling around his face. “Now, Mycroft? Ten more minutes? Please?”

Mycroft regarded the boy. “Ten more. Not eleven. Understood?” William grinned and stuck his nose back in the book. 

Mycroft was worried about his little brother. In the last week since Mycroft had returned from school, the small boy who was known throughout the neighborhood for being loud, inquisitive, and constantly on the go had become increasingly withdrawn. He stayed close to Mycroft, content with whatever activity Mycroft engaged in. If Mycroft read a new book, William read a new book. If Mycroft went to explore the nearby woods in search of new specimens of flora and insects, William followed closely behind, his incessant chatter disturbingly silent but his mind ever aware of everything around him and his bright eyes ever alert. Mycroft continuously tried to draw him out and get him talking, but William was nothing if not stubborn. 

But this seemed more than just a strong-willed child being obstinate; the boy seemed hyper-vigilant, watchful. As if waiting for something to happen. His lean frame was tense and wary. Mycroft had his suspicions, but until he had proof, experience told him there was nothing he could do. 

“Time’s up, little brother.” 

William sat up with a start, as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Alright,” he said, disappointed. 

Mycroft felt badly about making him put the book away. It seemed that getting lost in the world of pirates was the only thing that could relax him these days. “Run to your room and pick out your favorite pajamas. I’ll draw your bath, and then I promise to tell you a new story before bed.” 

Those were the magic words to get William scampering off to his room. He adored Mycroft’s stories and always wanted a new one. Maybe he’ll come out of his shell a bit now that I’m home, he thought. He began to fill a warm tub as William raced into the bathroom. 

As the youngest Holmes began to shed his clothing, the elder brother found William’s favorite bath time pirate ship. He turned to place the ship on the water and saw the child’s body. Mycroft began to feel sick as it slowly dawned on him what he was seeing. 

“William,” he said softly, “what has happened to you?” 

The boy’s body was a mass of bruises, welts, cuts, and scars in various stage of healing. Some of the marks were newly formed; others almost healed. This was far too excessive to be a normal wear and tear of an active five year old. 

William sat down quickly in the tub. “Nothing, “he answered, his voice subdued. 

Mycroft’s worse fears were confirmed. “William, you have to tell me the truth. Did Sherrinford do this to you? Did he hurt you?” 

William kept his head lowered, eyes downcast, and shook his head. 

Mycroft knelt next to the tub and spoke gently. “Listen, brother. You HAVE to tell me. I know how he is and I can help you. Has he been cruel to you?”

William nodded slowly, large tears forming in his eyes. “He says I’m stupid and he needs to teach me to be better.” 

Mycroft’s rage began to rise, but he kept his temper in check. “Brother mine, you are NOT stupid. You have done nothing to deserve this. Have you told Mummy?”  
William shook his head. 

Mycroft nodded. “Of course not. I understand.” Mycroft sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. “He won’t hurt you again, William. I won’t allow it to happen. Not ever again.” 

William lifted his thickly lashed green eyes to his brother. “He comes in my room at night sometimes. He tells me not to make any noise.” 

Mycroft felt the nausea rising in his stomach. He knew his older brother suffered from rather extreme mental illness, but he never would have imagined him capable of such evil. Mycroft’s well above average twelve year old brain was reeling and he knew it would be up to him to help his small brother. 

Sherrinford Holmes, their eldest brother. At fifteen, he possessed an intellect not even Mycroft’s could rival. But it was too much for one person. He had been diagnosed with many mental illnesses, including schizophrenia. He’d had violent episodes in the past, but it had always been directed inward, never toward another person. But his behavior had grown worse in the months before Mycroft had left for school. Mycroft worried about William, but he never would have dreamed that anything would happen to the boy with their parents right there. He felt immediate disgust towards his parents and their denial regarding Sherrinford. Even after the eldest Holmes brother was expelled from three different schools and sent home, they refused to accept that he might be dangerous. 

“Do you want me to stay in your room with you while I’m home?”

William nodded silently as he sailed his pirate ship. 

Mycroft sat in silent thought as William finished his bath. He helped the child dry off and put some salve on the worst of the injuries before helping him into his warm pajamas. “Ok, pirate. Bed and story time.”

Mycroft quelled his rage and nausea so he could get the small boy into bed and be an effective storyteller. Once the story was over, he tucked the covers high under William’s chin. “I need to go do something quickly. Will you be alright for a few minutes?”

William nodded slowly, fear in his eyes. “Will you be right back?”

“I promise.” 

“OK, Mycroft,” answered the child, seeming far older than he should have.

The rage awakened in Mycroft’s chest. He strode purposefully down to the hall to the closed door at the end. Without knocking, he stormed in, slamming the door behind him.

His mother visibly jumped behind her desk. “Mykie, for God’s sake! What have I told you about knocking when I am in my study?”

Mycroft was not going to be put off. “Sherrinford has been hurting William.”

His mother turned white and stood up. “That’s ridiculous," she said in disbelief. Sherrinford is good to William. Besides he is almost never here. He goes into town every day.”

Mycroft strode to her desk. “He’s home at night and he goes into William’s bed. It stops now, mother. If you won’t stop him, I will.” 

His mother crossed her arms. “What are you saying, Mycroft? Are you threatening me? Sherrinford?? ”

“Not at all. I am protecting my brother. And I am telling you right now, Mother, if Sherrinford so much as touches William again, it will be the last thing he ever does. As I see it, you have a choice. You can put Sherrinford in a home that can handle him better. Or you give up your math and your books and you become a real mother to William. The mother he needs. We all need. Either way, I am not giving up my education to raise your son." Mycroft adored school. Not for the social aspect; not in the least, but the sheer joy of LEARNING! He loved learning new things, challenging himself. He wasn't ready to put everything he knew he could be on the back burner. Something had to be done. 

"No more chances, mother. If Sherrinford touches William once more before I go back to school, I will handle it in any way I can to make sure William is safe.” 

Mrs. Holmes sat down, defeated. “Mykie, I need your help. How can I give up my career?” she implored. 

“Would you prefer to give up your sons? Because if you allow Sherrinford to continue to hurt my brother, you will lose all of us.” Mycroft turned away from his mother. “He is five years old, mother. He needs you, not me.” he said, his voice imperceptivity shaking.

She swallowed hard and sighed. “Alright, Myk. You leave me no choice. I will give up my work and keep a close eye on William. And a closer one on Sherrinford. I'll have him evaluated again. And if we need to, we'll increase his medication. I just never thought....” She sunk into her chair, her head in her hands. 

Mycroft was skeptical but he desperately wanted to believe his mother. As intelligent as he was, he knew he could not handle this alone. “You promise? Because if I go back to school and come back to find William been hurt more, I won’t be held responsible for what might happen.” 

“You have my word.” 

“Thank you, mother.” Mycroft turned, and without another word, left his mother behind her desk, slamming the door behind him. 

Mycroft returned to William’s room to find his small brother huddled under the covers, crying softly. 

He leapt into the bed with the boy and scooped him in his arms. “William, what happened? Why are you crying?” Mycroft wiped his small brother’s face as he held him on his lap. 

William sighed a long, shuddery sigh before he answered. “Mycroft, I was so scared you weren’t coming back. I don’t want Sherrinford to come in here again.”

“He isn’t going to come back, brother mine. I promise. He isn’t going to hurt you again. As long as I am your brother, I will make sure you are safe. OK? Now come on. Let’s get tucked back in.”

Mycroft tucked himself and the boy into the large bed, William’s small head resting on his chest. 

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, William?”

“When Sherrinford comes in here, he calls me bad names. He makes my name sound ugly. I don’t want to be William anymore. I don’t like it.” 

“But William is a fine name,” soothed Mycroft.

“No. I don’t like it when I hear people say it. It makes me feel…bad.”

“OK. How about one of your middle names? You can be Scott.”

“No. I want a special name. So I can be special. Like you. I want to be Sherlock.”

Mycroft exhaled deeply and closed his eyes as he gently rubbed his brother’s back. “Sherlock it is. Now... Sherlock Holmes, go to sleep.”


End file.
